


Exit 22

by Secondprinces (CrimeBrulee)



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M, implied possibility of death idk really but if i don't tag it someone might get upsetti, it's more of an open ending, just some fire emblem halloween fun, liminal zone bs because that's just who i am, spoiler alert ig i am sorry ;;;
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27294931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimeBrulee/pseuds/Secondprinces
Summary: “Hm,” Robin agreed.  He flicked the vent upward to blow cool air on his face.  “And they said this was the scenic route.”“Yeah, well, they lied,” Chrom said, though there was a lilt of amusement in his voice.  “Not that I’m complaining.  I’m not into excitement when it comes to roadtrips.”--Little Chrobin halloween fic, originally written for Emblemcon.
Relationships: Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin, established chrobin - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Exit 22

**Author's Note:**

> Would it be weird if I recorded myself reading this? Would anyone listen to that??? LOL??

The Jeep Wrangler hit the rumble strip, and Robin jolted awake.

“Are you sure we didn’t miss the exit?” Robin asked, leaning forward to squint at the faded mile markers.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His cheek was still red where he’d smooshed it against the car window.

“Pretty sure,” Chrom said. He was behind the wheel, sunglasses glinting in the afternoon glare, one hand still on Robin’s thigh. He glanced at his phone. Google maps made no indication that he’d missed his turn.

They sat in silence.

There was little else save for the hum of the engine and the gentle pull of a highway, blotting out into the horizon miles ahead. A sea of scrubland, peppered with rocks and dust and scraggly little plants, ate away at any sign of civilization; Chrom hadn’t seen an exit for almost an hour. Rarer still were little dilapidated houses bleeding from the outskirts of the last city they’d passed through.

The highway wasn’t empty, and Chrom had found a rhythm in flicking the blinker, merging left, passing a car, flicking the blinker, and merging back right, over and over through sparse traffic.

Robin yawned and shifted. “How are we on gas?”

“Decent, but it wouldn’t hurt to stop at the next exit,” Chrom said. He tapped idly at the wheel. “Wouldn’t mind a snack or something too, you know?”

“Hm,” Robin agreed. He flicked the vent upward to blow cool air on his face. “And they said this was the scenic route.”

“Yeah, well, they lied,” Chrom said, though there was a lilt of amusement in his voice. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m not into excitement when it comes to roadtrips.”

“Hold on,” Robin said, leaning forward and squinting out the window. “I see a sign coming up—might be an exit—”

The sign had splintered into several pieces; the words were too worn to read. The exit itself was in disrepair, with crumbling asphalt half devoured by weeds.

“That’s a hard pass,” Chrom said.

“Agreed.”

“Ah shit—” Chrom hit the brakes, and the car ground to a halt in a cloud of dust, inches from the bumper of another car. Chrom leaned out his window to peer ahead. A long line of cars curved with the land. If he squinted, he could barely make out the red and blue flash of first responders. Another hurled by in a dirge of sirens.

“Oh, that’s…not good,” Robin mumbled. “Must have been pretty serious. Backed up for miles.” He groaned and kneaded his temples then let his head thunk backwards to stare at the ceiling.

The next hour was a series of stops and starts. They crept forward half a mile in what felt like an eternity.

“I don’t care what the next exit is, we need to get off because I need to pee,” Robin said. “I will pee on a plant or a rock or something—I don’t care, as long as it is private.”

“Duly noted,” Chrom said.

Robin thrust a finger toward the window. “I see another green sign. Exit 22.”

Chrom stared blankly at the bumper in front of them.

“You can use the shoulder. It’s not like there’s anyone here to arrest you. They’re all up there, dealing with whatever’s going on.”

“Right—” Chrom eased the car over to the right, slipping over the rumble strip, then sped down the shoulder and into the exit. 

This exit was considerably cleaner than the one prior, with faded paint lines and only a few cracks. Chrom squinted at the sign, but couldn’t make out any of the words. The sun must have baked them off. It ended in a stop sign and two directions to choose from. Chrom peered down both directions. Nothing.

“Robin, what does the GPS say? Any gas stations?” Chrom asked. He could not make out the telltale signs of either gas station or restaurant—just a stretch of road that intersected their own.

Robin took the phone in his hands and pinched the screen outward to scroll through the map. “Uh, no, actually, this exit isn’t even showing up on the map...”

“We must have just lost signal,” Chrom groaned. “I’m gonna head under the overpass. Seems more likely something will be over there, yeah?”

“Probably. As long as we don’t end up in some abandoned murder field.” Robin said. 

Chrom shrugged. “An abandoned murder field seems like a private place to pee, at least.”

Robin shoved at his shoulder.

Chuckling, Chrom palmed the wheel to the left. The overpass cast a cold shadow over the car as they slipped through. The sun on the other side seemed dimmer, somehow. The plants more sparse, just crackled corpses littering the dirt. 

“We’re in luck,” Chrom said, “I think I see a little gas station up ahead.” 

They pulled into the lot, just past the stilts that once held the sign—now smashed onto the ground in a pile of broken glass and scattered channel letters. The station, however, did seem operational. The gas pumps were lit up, prices digitally displayed over each option and a television screen flashing through candy bar options. The station itself was lit from within, smudged behind dusty windows.

“Oh thank god,” Robin muttered. 

“I’ll get the gas, you head inside first and pee. We can load up on snacks while we’re at it.”

“Good thinking,” Robin said, as he climbed out of the car. 

The hairs rose on the back of his neck, and Robin was acutely aware of the creak of the door and then the scuff of his own feet on the pavement. The whole of this area felt too open, and in its openness, somehow claustrophobic, like the weight of isolation might close on him. He shuddered.

The door chimed as Robin shoved inside. His feet left two track marks in a thick layer of dust that obscured tiled floor. Overhead, one of the fluorescent tubes buzzed and flickered.

“Hello?” Robin called.

No response. 

Robin kicked a trail to the bathroom. By some miracle there was soap and toilet paper. Robin emerged and started wandering down the aisles. 

Was this place abandoned?

He stared down at the dust tracks he’d left. Goosebumps prickled across his skin.

The only tracks here were his own.

Something prodded his elbow. The sinking feeling in Robin’s gut swallowed any yelp of surprise, but he whirled around, hands raised.

“Whoa, Robin—calm down,” Chrom raised both hands. “You good?”

“You scared me—” Robin said, patting his chest as if trying to slow his heart. He choked through a few deep breaths. “Did….did you manage to get gas?”

“Yeah, no problems there,” Chrom said. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” Robin said, gesturing to the run-down store. “Look at this dump? I don’t think there’s anyone even working in here—hasn’t been in a long time—”

Chrom furrowed his brow. “They probably just stepped out for a few minutes, is all. Smoke break or something.”

“Did you not see how thick the dust on the floor is? There are cobwebs everywhere. No one has set foot in here for  _ weeks _ .”

Chrom looked around, scanning the shelves then the floor to the ceiling. “I mean, it’s not spotless, but I don’t know what you mean? It’s no worse than any of the other gas stations we’ve been in this weekend.”

“Chrom, this isn’t funny.” Robin said. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“I want snacks—” Chrom said. “If we’re going to have to sit through the wreck traffic, I want to be popping peanut m&ms and chugging blue powerade…”

“There’s no one here to even buy them from,” Robin grumbled. He glanced fleetingly at the door.

“I’ll just leave a few bills at the register along with a note,” Chrom said with a shrug. “As long as it covers the cost, I don’t see an issue.”

“I’m going to wait in the car, then,” Robin said. He shoved out of the store and sprinted toward the Jeep, locking himself in. He pawed at his phone as he collected his nerves.

The GPS showed them in the middle of a patch of green somewhere off of the highway. There was no road or gas station to speak of.

The driver’s side door creaked open. Chrom piled in with a few bags of varied snacks.

“Did you at least check to make sure they’re not expired?”

“This kind of stuff never expires,” Chrom said with a shrug. The car shuddered as he turned the key.

“Let’s just get down the road as fast as we can. This place gives me the creeps.”

Chrom took a swig of powerade and nodded. The engine turned over with a low growl. He eased them back toward the overpass, and they passed under its shadow again.

The brightness of midday never quite returned.

“Oh, wild,” Chrom mused, as he picked up speed on the entry ramp. He merged onto an empty highway. “They cleared that wreck really fast, didn’t they.”

Robin’s brow furrowed. He squinted down a suspiciously empty road, no car in sight for miles. “There’s no way. We were only stopped for like 15 minutes tops.”

“I mean, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, I guess.” Chrom said. He brought the car to speed.

As the car coasted the next few miles, Robin scanned the shoulder for any indication of a wreck. Aside from the odd carcass of shredded tire and bits of broken glass, he saw nothing amiss. 

“We went from a parking lot to a raceway,” Chrom said.

“I haven’t seen a single car since we got back on the highway,” Robin said. “Does that not seem odd to you?”

Chrom shrugged. “Again, gift horse, mouth.”

“Something isn’t right,” Robin mumbled. He let his cheek smoosh into the window, but kept an eye on the side of the road.

Where there had been the periodic gas station or house or barn on the side of the road, all Robin could see were barren fields for miles, with the occasional dilapidated structure. Ads hung as tattered rags to the skeletons of old billboards.

Robin swallowed. “It’s like everyone else….disappeared.”

“Not true,” Chrom said, jabbing a finger toward the side of the road. “Look, a hitchhiker—”

“Great,” Robin mumbled.

They raced past an older man with his t-shirt drawn up over his head against the sun. 

“In case you were worried we slipped into some kind of apocalyptic dimension or something,” Chrom said with a shrug. “Huh, maybe we should have stopped and gave him water or something, now that I think about it.”

“Not a good idea,” Robin said with a sigh. 

“Too late now anyway,” Chrom said. 

Chrom popped a couple of peanut m&ms into his mouth.

“Oh, another one,” Chrom said. “Bad day for hitchhikers. No one around for miles.”

Robin furrowed his brow. “He looked awfully familiar. Just like the last one.”

“I mean, they were just wearing their shirts the same way. S’not like it’s that uncommon.”

“…True,” Robin mumbled. He flicked on the radio. 

An old version of “Horse with No Name” jigsawed through the static. Robin twisted the dial, but the song jumped to the beginning. The static was as thick as ever. Robin continued to twist the dial. The song distorted, gave way to a shrill crackle, then faded back, now at the chorus. A radio announcer voice slipped between the cracks of the song, but Robin couldn’t make out the snatches of words.

“Talk about that wild west lack of reception,” Chrom said, but his chuckle was uneasy. He rubbed the back of his head. “I can always pop in the Jimmy Buffet CD.”

“Anything but that,” Robin said. He squinted. “Chrom, another hitchhiker.”

Chrom slowed this time. The hitchhiker wore a t-shirt over his head and walked with the same limp as the other two guys. As they passed, he slowly extended a hand, thumb up, eyes boring into them.

“This is no coincidence,” Robin said.

Chrom punched the gas. 

“I’m going to check the navigation,” Robin said. He thumbed through his phone, hands shaking as he smeared sweat over his screen. 

No Service.

“How the hell do we have no service?” Robin said. “Like, I have bars. I can see the goddamn bars, but the map app isn’t loading. Like okay fine. What time did we estimate we’d arrive? Like 5:00pm?” With a sigh of exasperation, he glanced at the time on the dash.

6:00pm.

That didn’t seem right.

He double-checked on his phone. 5:24pm.

Then the dash. 8:00am.

Then his phone. 4:55pm.

Then the dash. 3:33am.

“Robin, you okay?”

Robin shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know if either of us is okay.”

Chrom licked his lips. “Drink some water. Breathe. We can pull off somewhere if we need to.”

“That’s—it’s not me. I’m not the problem.” Robin snatched his iced coffee—watered down from hours of sitting in the car—and took a sip. 

The same hitchhiker caught his eye when he glanced out the window, gone in a flash as they sped by.

Robin set the coffee back in the cupholder and massaged his temples. The radio continued to twist and weave in on itself. He jammed the off button with a grimace.

“I’m going to call Frederick.”

“Good idea,” Chrom said.

Robin opened his phone and scrolled through his contacts.

It was full of names he did not recognize, and none of those that he did. He checked his text messages. All he saw were unfamiliar but mundane text conversations between himself and people he did not recognize. If it weren’t for his bird charm on his phone, he’d think he’d accidentally swapped his phone for someone else’s. 

“Chrom,” Robin said, voice pitching up an octave. “Chrom. I think we need to turn around. I think we need to go back to that exit. What was it—exit 22? I think something is wrong.”

Chrom peeled to a stop on the shoulder, and turned to look into Robin’s eyes. He could see sweat plastering his bangs to his forehead and the way that he trembled. 

Robin thrust his phone into Chrom’s face. “Something isn’t right. Look at this? This phone is completely wrong—”

Chrom thumbed through, then checked his own. The color drained from his face. “What the hell…”

“And we saw that hitchhiker like 4 times. There’s no way. And isn’t it a  _ little _ odd that we haven’t seen a single car since we stopped? This is a major highway.”

Chrom nodded. “You’re right…Something is off. If you think that looping back to that exit will help, then I’m all for it.”

“Thank you,” Robin breathed. “I don’t know what happened, but, we’re not in a good place.”

“Lucky for us, this baby can go offroading,” Chrom said, patting the dash. He put the car in drive and pulled a U-turn out into the grass separating the highways, then sped into the opposite direction. “Just try not to look out the window for now,” he said. “I think it’ll only freak you out more if you see that hitchhiker again.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. He stared pointedly at his hands, clasped so tightly in his lap that the knuckles had turned white. The hum of the car across the road blended with the static swelling in his head. 

“Should be there soon,” Chrom said. “See? Exit 25. Just a couple more miles.”

Robin hissed some response. A glint of something caught his eye. “What—” On the highway opposite them, a line of cars burst free from a bottleneck of flashing lights and traffic flares. A tow truck had hitched itself to the mangled remains of a Blue Jeep Wrangler. Behind it, a long line of cars slithered through the road block, one by one.

Robin made a strangled sound. Something lodged into the pit of his stomach.

“What did I say about looking out the window,” Chrom said, giving Robin’s hand a squeeze. He barely paid the line of cars any mind. “Right, should be coming up. There it is. Exit 22.” 

He pulled off. Robin felt the cool of shade of the overpass, even with eyes squeezed shut.

But when they pulled up to the lot of the gas station, it was gone.


End file.
